


A Proud History

by KailynBail



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Brothers, F/M, Family reunited, Going their separate ways, M/M, Mages and Templars, Multi, Ostwick Circle, Protective Siblings, The regrets of the Father, Trevelyan children, What Once Was
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 00:51:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7955719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KailynBail/pseuds/KailynBail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bann Trevelyan... Ostwick... Free Marches. The Trevelyans are devout, dedicated, and pious... so naturally, their private lives are steeped in mystery. Did the Bann even have more than one child? Many questioned and many had no idea... of course, that all changed with the Breach.</p><p>[I have not abandoned this, I have simply put it on the back burner to simmer, hoping that inspiration on where exactly to take these characters will strike. I have ideas but none of them are really fitting for them. I haven't forgotten about it though. - 8/9/2017]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bann's Children

**Author's Note:**

> To avoid spoilers, I will be adding tags and characters/relationships as they occur in the chapters. :D

Little was known about Bann Trevelyan. Even less about his brood. What was known was mostly rumor shrouded in myth. Bann Trevelyan, William the third to be exact did have a wife long ago though her body failed shortly after birthing their third and final child. They know he never remarried nor spoke of her in his court; the pain was still too near for him, even twenty odd years later. His children, that was another matter all together. Magic ran strong in the Hawke line, Lucia, a cousin of the famed Malcolm Hawke was the unfortunate maiden who succumbed to the trials of childbirth. Rumors said that all of William’s children were afflicted with magic, though the truth was far more complicated than that. The people did know that only one of the children remained in the castle at Ostwick. The other two was were the rumors ran wild. Some say they were drown in the sea shortly after birth, some say they fled their confined cells in the dungeons long ago, and while the truth is not so dramatic nor tragic; the people cared not for the simple fact that both Amalia and Nicholas were simply sent to the circle tower.

The eldest, Maxwell remained at court and was undoubtedly William’s heir. Nicholas, the second son, excelled in the magical arts without even trying. Having his father’s baring, there was little room to doubt his lineage. Amalia was the youngest, the girl child having never known a mother’s embrace was, sad to say, shunned by her father and, to some extent, by her eldest brother. But not Nicholas; never Nicky. Being only a year apart though three years their eldest brother’s juniors, the two were inseparable almost from birth. The nurse maid that tended to the squalling Amalia had little patience for the babe who screamed for comfort more than anything else. It was Nicky who wandered the castle halls in the middle of the night to climb into her crib. Too young to be of any real use, all he could offer however, was the comfort his sister so desperately craved. And thus was the way of things, the children grew in the comfort of one another even after their father discovered them one night, ripping Nicky from her crib and chastising him for being out of his own bed, the boy got a few harsh lashings for the infraction but he held no ill will towards his father. Even at the tender age of six, Nicholas knew that his father… simply did not understand. A few years later Nicholas came into his magic, but he hid it. He knew well where mages went… and he knew that while his brother and father would survive just fine without him, Amalia would be left alone in this world. Not that Maxwell didn’t try to have a relationship with his sister, it wasn’t on the level that she shared with their other brother.

It wasn’t to be mistaken that the trio didn’t get into plenty of trouble together, they often raided the lauder and had the cook chasing them down the halls- cakes still clutched in their hands. Nor was it to be mistaken that Bann Trevelyan was cruel to his daughter… he wasn’t. He was… guarded and reserved. She looked so much like her mother and the sight of her pained the head of their family. So, he just kept his distance. While Nicholas hid his talent, his sister came into hers. She wasn’t as secretive about it and thus, was discovered. Bann Trevelyan agonized over the decision, even still, she was his only daughter. But eventually, he sent for the Templars. The man broke a little inside when not just his daughter came forward but his middle son as well, Nicholas refusing to let her walk this lonely road alone. The Templars assured the Bann that this was not at all uncommon, in fact, many families went through this exact case. Even still, watching the Templars take his children away was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do.

Naturally, it wasn’t until his daughter was gone that William realized how much she truly did mean to him and the lack of her presence cut him like a knife. He longed to hear the laughter his children would make as they played in the court yard… now, a single boy was all that remained, hacking lazily at a practice dummy with a wooden sword. Too young to understand but too old to be coddled, the sight of Maxwell there struck the Bann more severely. He suddenly appeared so small, even at the age of eleven, and suddenly looked so completely alone. William finally stepped out from the shadows of his own life and poured all his energy, hopes, and dreams into the young boy. Molding and shaping him into a fine young man, skilled with the art of battle and schooled in politics. Able, ready, and willing to ascend to the seat of the Bann when the time came. During the entire time, both wrote feverishly to the circle, waiting terribly long periods of times for a response from quite literally, the other half of their family. The responses were short… and very impersonal. Neither had any way of knowing that letters sent for mages never reached them and only those from family were responded to, in someone else’s hand and giving no details of their life in the circle. Ostwick’s circle was… not terrible, there were worse ones, but it was far from pleasant.

Both Amalia and Nicholas excelled in their studies, becoming formidable mages, passing their harrowing with ease. Nicholas broke more rules than Amalia but only by protecting her. She had grown into a beautiful woman and was pursued relentlessly by both mage and templar alike. More times than either of them cared to count, Nicholas had thwarted their attempts to ‘get at her’. Through the punishments and through Nicholas’s efforts, Amalia remained untouched and safe. The time they spent in the circle wasn’t without its own trials, but both remained true and faithful. To the maker, their family, and each other. That was their life, until of course, the rebellion.


	2. The Strangers Come Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They had little choice... where else could they go? Still, the decision plagued him... dare they seek shelter in their childhood home? Dare he risk taking his sister there? Would they be welcome? Surely his brother had gone into the order... he had no way of knowing what awaited them... but he had little choice. Desperation and fear drove them into the night...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, Max rules.

The Ostwick circle fell in a fit of confusion and anger, fear and death. Nicholas, Amalia, and a hand full of others fled with minimal fighting, getting away from the insanity was the best course of action to be offered and they took it. The small group had gone their separate ways a few days later while Amalia and Nicholas made their way home, seeking refuge and aid. Maxwell was the one to see them approach in the night, even with the rain pouring down, not knowing who they were, he dispatched guards and strapped on his own armor, aiming to defend his father’s castle. The guards had already been on alert, doing what they could to stem the tide of the mages and Templars alike who flooded their lands.

Maxwell hurried with the castle guards, finding it odd that the strangers approached the front gate. The hinges creaked and protested as the lock sprung free, tendrils of magic snaking around it before the heavy wooden door opened. Swords were drawn, Maxwell’s at the ready, his shield in hand. A brilliant light shone before them, the hand that held the ethereal orb extended towards them, the other holding back in a protective manner and a woman’s pale eyes peering over the man’s shoulder in fear. Once Maxwell’s eyes adjusted he found himself… staring at the face of his father. It took him a moment, the guards looking nervously to their Lord. “…… Nicholas?” His sword had slowly begun to lower.

Nicholas stood protective and strong, despite his exhaustion. He blinked a few moments, the rain stinging his tired eyes. “… Max?” He showed no signs of relaxing however, his eyes, pale as the dawn just as his sisters flicked to the other guards. “We mean you no harm… we ask only for a night’s rest and perhaps a meal for my sister… we will be gone by dawn, I give you my word.” His voice shook as his nerves ran through him.

Maxwell lowered his sword completely and stared at his siblings for a few seconds before shaking his head and sheathing it. “Nonsense, get in here, quickly!” He stepped forward to usher them in only to be pained by their flinching out of his reach. “I would not harm my siblings, no matter the insanity that is going on out there.” The guards had all followed suit and began returning to their previous posts, no doubt whispering about the return of the fabled children of William the third.

Nicholas eyed his brother, remember full well his family’s connections with the chantry… unsure of the man’s intentions he glanced to his sister behind him. Amalia gave a tentative nod and pulled her soaked cloak further around herself, shivering with the cold as she stepped away from Nicholas and into the courtyard fully, allowing Maxwell to close and lock the gate.

“Quickly, out of the rain, you’ll both catch a death of cold!” Maxwell shouted over the rain that had begun falling in earnest, his head hung low as he trotted to the side door, avoiding the massive steps that he personally hated to use. Nicholas and Amalia close behind him. He held the door for them and watched as they entered, stomping their boots and shaking out their cloaks. He couldn’t stop staring. His brother was a good five inches taller than he, he hadn’t noticed earlier since he had been crouched in a defensive position. His sister shorter than he, her hair… he remembered their mother’s hair. Long and the color of raven feathers, the same he saw before him as she squeezed it out. He watched Nicholas too, the man pulling the soaking cloak off to reveal a well muscled body, unlike most mage’s, apparently he had been destined to be a warrior instead of a scholar, and it showed. What took him aback the most were their faces, he had noticed outside but now, in the light of the kitchen fire, he saw the lines clearly. Both were tattooed, their faces… Nicholas’s was fierce looking, spiked lines running from his lower lip down his chin, a single line going down the center of his throat. His right eye framed with more designs and when Nicholas looked at him with that guarded expression, Maxwell couldn’t help but wonder what had become of his once gentle brother. Amalia’s was more delicate, swirling lines that crossed her face, should have marred her delicate features but somehow didn’t. She too noticed the staring, so she spoke up. Her lilt was unmistakably Free Marches.

“They mark us for the mages we are…” She gestured to Nicholas’s face before her own. “Fire… and water.”

Maxwell blinked, shock settling in. “They?”

“Templars.” Nicholas said simply as he took a seat at the worn table, noticing how… it hadn’t changed at all.

Maxwell fell into the seat along the wall with that. “They… did that to you?”

Amalia tapped her chin at her brother and soon a piece of bread was deposited into her hand, Nicholas taking none for himself. “Yes. It’s… a system, makes us easier to identify.”

Nicholas sighed heavily, his stomach growling loudly as Amalia devoured the wheat slice quickly. He noticed how shocked his brother was and felt the need to ease him. “It’s alright brother… you couldn’t have known. They make sure those outside the circle don’t know.” He couldn’t hide a certain amount of malice in his voice but there was no contempt.

Maxwell sighed as well, his heart going heavy. “Still… I should have known that something was wrong, when your letters came, they were so… distant.”

“What letters?” Amalia was the one to ask as she took a seat on the bench, freeing the clasp of her cloak and letting it fall only to have Nicholas pull it from around her and take it and his both to the fire, hanging them on the mantle to dry.

“The letters you… both.. wrote us?” Maxwell stalled out his words, guessing what their response would be.

“They never let us write letters.” Amalia spoke up with a confused tone while Nicholas tapped her shoulder, offering her a plate he had prepared of the stew he found still settled in the cauldron over the fire, more bread was offered, of course. This time however, he did make a plate for himself and the speed in which he ate it, it was a wonder he didn’t burn his throat.

“I gather that now…” Maxwell shook his head as they fell into silence. How do you pick up the pieces of an old life? Even though he had longed to have his siblings home, he still didn’t know how to react properly, it all felt so… surreal. “Well, you’re here now, that’s all that matters. Father will be pleased that you’ve both returned to us.”

Nicholas cleared his throat, having finished his stew far quicker than even he had intended. “We dare not stay.”

Maxwell’s face fell. “But… this is your home…”

Amalia had gone quiet, working on her food much slower than her brother. Nicholas was the one to respond as he set the plate down on the table. “It’s too dangerous, brother. If we stay, it will put both you and father in more danger than you know.”

Maxwell wanted to argue but he knew the world they lived in and gave a reluctant nod. “Father will still have to be told, if he doesn’t know already.”

Amalia gave a grim nod at that and cast a worried look to Nicholas. It was Nicholas to respond, yet again. “Amalia… he’ll be glad to see you, he will.”

Maxwell took his turn to chime in. “He will. He has missed both of you, very much. You will see.”


	3. The Bann

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick could feel his sister's trepidation... Max was one thing... but their father was another. He might as well have been a stranger now. Was Max being truthful or was he living in his own dream? It was surreal, all of it... he couldn't believe any of it was happening. While Amalia seemed to thrive in the conflict, he cared not for this war.

Amalia still wasn’t so sure but she trusted her brothers. They waited until she had finished her meal before they followed Maxwell through the castle, using servants quarters to reach the Bann’s wing. Passing by halls and doors alike that they both remembered was… very odd. But it was Nicholas who stalled out as Maxwell opened the door to their father’s chambers, the firelight already leaking out into the dark hall. He steeled himself before crossing the threshold and easing the door shut behind him, he hadn’t a chance to turn around properly before his neck was ensnared in a thick arm, being pulled close to a man that was equal his height, his sister squished in beside him as the mighty Bann embraced his children.

“Thank the Maker you’re both safe!” The Bann had indeed heard of their arrival and had been waiting impatiently for them to come to him. He had wanted to find them immediately but somewhere in his mind, there was doubt. Would they even want to see him? It had been over ten years, Amalia now a woman of nineteen, Nicholas a man of twenty. Taken when they were eight and nine respectively. He pulled back after a moment, not wanting to release them and looked down at his daughter and into the eye of his son. He was taken aback by how much they resembled both him and his beloved. His daughter… so much like her mother, yet different. His son, who was more like looking into a mirror than he had ever seen. Maxwell resembled him but he had much of his mother in him as well, enough to be a perfect mix of the two. These two though? Through and through, Lucia and William.

Amalia’s chin trembled as she tucked herself against an embrace she had longed for her entire life, holding no ill will towards the man, her father. “Father.” She whispered as she held onto him still, even after he had released them. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders easily, nodding down to her as his own emotions threatened to overthrow him.

Nicholas just stared, stepping away slightly. He was so much older than he remembered… his hair nearly all white. Nicholas was confused, almost. It was as if his memory couldn’t quite cope. But he didn’t pull away entirely. “So far.” He responded to his father’s statement.

“And you will continue to be, come.. come, by the fire. Maker’s Breath, you’re so cold, little bird.” He took his daughter’s hands and began rubbing them as he guided her towards the hearth. _Little Bird_ , her nick name in the castle, Nicholas had been the one to give it to her and that pained their father. He knew he had failed her but he hoped now, more than ever, that he’d have the time to make up for it.

Amalia nodded, remembering her nick name well as Nicholas still called her that from time to time. Though she’d not heard it from her Father since she was very small, one of the rare occasions he had gifted her with attention. Nicholas followed and soon Maxwell had left and returned with dry clothing for the both of them, they changed in private and returned to their father and brother, all taking a seat on the furs before the fire.

“Our outer guards have been searching for you for three days.” William began, pouring the wine into all the cups, finding it surreal as well that his youngest were both old enough to enjoy such libations. “We heard of the circle falling… I’m just grateful the two of you made it here.”

“You were expecting us?” Nicholas asked as he held his cup steady, crossing his legs in his seating.

Maxwell took a sip of his own and nodded. “Mmm… yes, Father insisted that you two would come home now that the circle’s had fallen.”

“I knew the two of you would not be involved in this ridiculous rebellion.” William said adamantly over his own cup.

Amalia sniffed at the wine before taking the smallest of sips, shaking her head with a  shudder before speaking. “It’s not ridiculous… the manner in which it’s happening however.. is.”

William stilled at the comment. “Surely… you don’t… think that the rebellion is… valid?”

Nicholas looked to his father calmly. “We do. But not for the reason’s many believe. It is not the chantry we feel should be rebelled against, but the Templar’s and their… methods.” He gestured to his face, their father having noticed the tattoos but had kept quiet about them, Maxwell however, explained. Their father just shook with the news, his brow creasing in sorrow at his children. “It’s alright father… like Max, you couldn’t have known. And that’s the problem. _That_ is what is wrong. The chantry knows of these things, how things are in the circles, and they do _nothing_. They defer to the Templar’s, who have gone mad with power years ago.” Nicholas finally took a pull of the wine, swallowing slowly as he stared past his father’s pained expression and into the fire, watching the flames lick upwards, responded to just his glance.

“And if you question them, or speak out, or even try… you get the brand.” Amalia said with a shudder, fear coursing through her with the thought.

“That’s not true.” Nicholas said to her sternly.

“It is so.” Amalia shook her head, anger making itself known in her expression.

“Amalia… you cannot hold all of the Templars responsible for what happened in Kirkwall.” He returned his attention to their father and Max. “There are many templars who have stood alongside the mages, demanding reform. They too have been cast out.”

William took all this in with a solemn nod.  He hadn’t missed his daughter’s anger, nor his son’s level-headedness. “We’re in dark times, my children… dark times indeed.” He shook his head and took another sip of his wine. Here, surrounded by his children, all of them, even with what was going on, he felt nearly complete. He still missed his beloved of course, but he could see her there, looking back at him from all of them, especially his daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have this thing in my head that the Bann is actually a really good guy. Like, deep down inside, he's got a heart of gold. So... Papa Bann!


	4. Both of my sons… such fine men.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick couldn't get over it... their father had changed so much. Perhaps it was the loss of them, or it was simply time. He could tell that Max and father both believed that they could stay here... with them. But he knew the truth... Amalia knew the truth. It was sad to see how naive both his father and brother were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww fluff bonding with fire. -sniffles-

They all agreed and soon fell into conversation that led into the night. Soon, Amalia fell asleep there on the rugs while the men continued to talk, though soon that too died out. Nicholas rose with a groan and hoisted Amalia up into his arms, none too gentle but she didn’t so much as stir. William and Maxwell both watched as he settled her onto the chaise against the wall, covering her up easily and lazily, tossing the blanket over her only to have her adjust it in her sleep. The trio moved to the other room, adjacent and began speaking more.

“No, you should head north.” Maxwell argued softly with his brother’s idea of heading South.

William shook his head, refilling their glasses. “No, there’s sightings of Tevinter mages patrolling the Northern borders.”

“The Templars control the west and the rebel mages to the east, the south is no way out either.” Maxwell sighed heavily as both he and Nicholas leaned back in their chairs.

“Well… we must decide soon. We cannot stay here. I will not see the Chantry raze these lands nor see you usurped for harboring mages, father.” Nicholas ran his hand over his short hair and down his face.

William had to look at his son carefully again, this time he voiced his thoughts. “My son… so grown up.”

Nicholas froze for a second and looked to his father with a smirk. “Yeah well.. it snuck up on both you and I.”

William reached out and grasped Nicholas’s shoulder as well as Maxwell’s. “Both of my sons… such fine men. I am blessed, truly blessed.” He squeezed their shoulders with the intensity of his words. “And as much as I would love to stay up with you two until dawn, I am not as young as I once was. We will discuss our plan come the dawn.” He rose from the table and kissed both of his son’s head, Maxwell’s curly hair and Nicholas’s shorn close to his skull. “Goodnight, you two. Try to get some sleep.” William returned to his bedchamber, pausing to look back at the two men who sat at his conference table with pride… and a certain sense of impending doom. He stopped to pull Amalia’s blanket further up her form, tucking her in and kissing her brow as he had longed to do so many times in the past. He crossed the room and got into his own bed, drifting off the soft sounds of his son’s voices and watching the low fire dance across his daughter’s face. Blessed was the true word for this, was his last thought before sleep took him.

Maxwell looked across the table as his brother leaned back in his chair, exhaustion evident on his features.

Nicholas adjusted himself and sighed heavily, finding himself being… stared at. “What?... I got… I got something on face?” He brushed at his chin absently, his brows raising in question.

“No…” Maxwell gave a bit of a laugh. “I just can’t get over it… man, eleven years.” He shook his head as he leaned forward a bit.  

Nicholas gave a small laugh of his own. “Likewise. It feels… so strange to be back here. And you? Look at you. You’re.. so…”

“Grown up?” Maxwell offered a finish to the sentence.

“Fat.” Nicholas said with humor dancing in his eyes, he gave another laugh as he dodged a swat. “I’m kidding, kidding.. yes, grown up.”

Maxwell knew the jest for what it was and he smiled at his brother. “I’ve missed you, brother.”

“Same here.” Nicholas settled in his chair fully again.

Maxwell took in a deep breath before speaking again. “So… I have to ask.. what… what can you do? Earlier, Amalia said fire, but what does that mean?”

Nicholas smiled good naturedly at his brother’s curiosity. He looked to the fire and gave a sidelong glance to his brother before reaching his hand out to it, the flames rising and leaping to his fingers, dancing around the digits as his pupils dilated and shone brightly. “The best way to explain it is… fire… listens to me.”

Maxwell stared on in awe, not fear like he had thought he would. He saw his brother manipulate the flame so… gracefully. He saw that it wasn’t forced… it wasn’t angry… nor did he see it as evil. “That’s brilliant!” He shushed himself while his brother gave a bit of a laugh. “And Amalia, water… listens to her?”

Nicholas shushed and laughed a bit as he sent the fire back to the hearth, the glow in his eyes fading. “Pretty much… she mostly tells it to turn into ice though, it’s more… effective that way.” He looked troubled all of a sudden. Maxwell noticed the change and sobered to listen. “She’s so… angry, sometimes. Maybe she’s just more… passionate than I, but… I fear for her.” He spoke it quietly, even here. He had never dared to express his concerns to her nor anyone within the circle, he knew they could too easily think badly of her. And it was unwise to draw the attention of the powerful.

Maxwell sighed and gave a look of uncertainty. “I’m sure… she’s fine. She’s strong, like you. Like father.”

Nicholas smiled at his brother’s reassurance. “Yeah.. I’m sure she’ll be fine. It’s just this whole… damned rebellion.” He scrubbed at his face again.


	5. Go Forth and Rebel, My Son.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (This Chapter is Unfinished, just wanted to put this here just in case)

It was in the early morning hours when Nicholas finally woke, lifting his head from the table in a start as he stilled himself, looking quickly to the hand on his shoulder and then up to its owner. “… Father..”

William stood overhead and offered a small sort of smile. “Sorry to wake you, my son… but I fear that our time is growing short.” He gestured to the window, Templar dignitaries were dismounting in the court yard.

Nicholas rose and looked out the window before nearly tripping over his own feet to turn around, his father behind him however caught him around the shoulders.

“Easy Son… they are your cousins, seeking refuge, same as you. However, I feel it best if they do not know you or your sister are here.” William pulled Nicholas away from the window. “I have fresh horses being prepared for you and Amalia…”

Nicholas stilled himself and looked at his father carefully, the man was mourning it seemed. The crease in his brow deep with worry. “Of course. I wouldn’t see this castle razed for harboring apostates…”

William looked offended all of a sudden. “That is not what you two are, you are mages, simple as that and my children. Here, take this…” He thrust a piece of parchment into Nicholas’s hand before the ‘boy’ pulled a fresh cloak on.

“What is it?” Nicholas asked simply as he shrugged the offered pack on as well.

“Directions. Seek out the head of the Mage Rebellion, Grand Enchanter Fiona has been sending messages to all known mage families seeking aid of free mages.” William rushed behind him as they entered his bedchambers where Amalia was already hoisting her own pack with the help of their brother, Maxwell.

“We can get ahead of them if we hurry…” Amalia said in a rush, taking the offered sweet bread from Max with a nod of thanks.

William stilled them with his look, Nicholas took hold of his hand. “We will return, Father.” He gave the old man a warm embrace followed by Max, the brothers held onto each other a little longer.

“Stay safe.” Max whispered to him, feeling much like their father. They had just gotten them back and now, once again, the laws outside their house demanded that they leave… again.

............


End file.
